


The First Lady of Rosebane

by orphan_account



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M, Smut, Sorry again, purely self indulgent
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-09
Updated: 2020-04-09
Packaged: 2021-03-01 22:48:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,314
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23554810
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Relationships: Bran Stark/Original Female Character(s)
Kudos: 12





	The First Lady of Rosebane

The sight of the Red Keep scared her.  
  
Gloria wished she didn’t have to admit it, but it did. Not because of its imposing figure- which she had to admit, was formidable- but because, in some way, it reminded her of Highgarden.  
  
She’d had happy years there, as a child, though she’d been hidden away. The moment the seer told them that those eyes of hers, that changed color so unnaturally, were like to be the product of dark magic...she was cursed to that fate, cursed to be kept away in Highgarden while her family pretended she was ill and sickly. But Loras, and Margaery, and Willas and even her oldest brother, Garlan- they’d kept her company sometimes. Loras had taught her to dance, Willas had taught her to read the stars, and drew her pictures of them sometimes…  
  
How quickly love for them had turned to hate. Hate for her father, her mother, her brothers...all but Margaery, sweet, kind Margaery, and Grandmother.  
  
When she’d discovered her powers, Olenna had been the one to push her father to let her learn to use them. Those powers of hers...healing, mainly, but also a strange bit that made them change when she touched people of a noble house. She smiled bittersweetly as she remembered when she’d touched a Greyjoy envoy and accidentally emptied the entire contents of the garden fountain, ten feet away, onto Loras, just by slapping him. Or the time she’d touched a young girl from Winterfell, who’d had a residue left in her from touching a member of House Stark, and nearly froze that same fountain over.  
  
As she’d grown up and mastered her powers, she spent more and more time with Olenna. Her dear old grandmother had always had high hopes for her. “You could be a queen,” she told Gloria once, when she was ten. “A loved and respected one, but also a feared one.”  
  
When she’d learned to stop her eyes from changing color randomly, and learned to change them at will, she thought her father would have let her out of Highgarden. No one would have to know of her abilities. But he refused her, time and time again. It was Margaery who would sneak her out occasionally in the garb of a serving girl, when their grandmother would take them out on trips to the lake, or to the markets to buy flaky peach tarts and hair ribbons.  
  
But as she grew older, the resentment only built up. Why was she the one locked away like a princess in her stories? Her, who had power greater than anyone in her family? It was hardly fair. She snuck out more frequently, and sometimes went missing for days, though her father always scolded her harshly for that. Eventually, she decided to leave Highgarden, forever. To escape. She was fourteen when she decided on it, and her grandmother was the first one she told. Olenna approved- although, if her father disapproved of something, she was always like to approve of it, just to spite him. She even helped Gloria set a day, and when she left, Olenna gave her gold to help her.  
  
The day before Gloria left, though, Olenna hired a seer. For what, she wouldn’t tell anyone, but she summoned Gloria to her rooms. “Child...take my hand,” the seer said- she was a kind old woman, with silvery hair and a plump body.  
  
When she took the woman’s hand, albeit hesitantly, the seer’s head fell back, and her eyes rolled up into her head, exposing the whites. It scared Gloria a little bit, but Olenna told her not to let go of the seer’s hand, and so she didn’t. When the seer returned from her trance, she told Gloria to seek out a three eyed raven, and told her she’d seen Gloria, fixing its broken wing.  
  
It didn’t occur to either Gloria or Olenna that she would have absorbed a little of the seer’s power the way she did with that Greyjoy envoy. So the vision that hit her that night as she knelt by her bed took her completely by surprise.  
  
It started with blinding white light, and Gloria squinted in her vision, trying to see. Then she did see, and it was a sight to behold indeed.  
  
A black banner fluttered in the wind, flying on a flagpole upon which a raven was perched. She couldn’t see close enough, but she knew somehow it had three eyes. The black banner was emblazoned with a white tree, its branches spreading across that black field like it was reaching for something. At its heart, seemingly nestled against its trunk, was a red sword, its blade sharp and gleaming. Gloria reached out to touch the banner, feeling like it was familiar, like it was for her, and-  
  
And she awoke, collapsed on the floor of her bedroom. She could not sleep that night for wondering what it had meant, the vision and the banner.  
  
That was the sign for her that it was time, time to leave Highgarden behind. Olenna sent her off one dark night with a pouch of gold, a warm cloak, a strong mare, and a promise that she would do great things. She stole off into the night, and when she reached the inn in a town halfway to Bitterbridge, she told the innkeeper to ask no questions, and slipped him an extra copper for his trouble.  
  
Her grandmother had told her to seek out a lesser Redwyne House in Bitterbridge, and for a time, that was her goal. But there were better prospects for someone like her than being a cowed lady in a household that wasn’t even her own. So instead she made for King’s Landing, knowing she could find work there.  
  
Over the two years leading up to the war- or at least the outright chaos that marked it- she worked for many people, but always as the same thing- a spy. No one would suspect a girl, no older than fifteen, of being anything but a scared little girl. So every dinner she was invited to as this lord’s cousin's niece or that lady’s orphan ward, she listened. She listened, and she watched, and she repeated. And she was paid very nicely for it- very nicely indeed by a man named Varys, who was her employer for most of those two years. He was a reasonably kind man, and at least with him she could be sure it was his mind that wanted her, not his cock. Too many lords had hired her, thinking they could seduce her, turn her into a lapdog that came when called and spread her legs when asked. Varys, though, was a eunuch. He only wanted her for the helpful information she provided as one of the strings in his ever-more-intricate web.  
  
The war found her hopping about, on the run from the destruction like a criminal on the run from the law. She lived in makeshift shelters in forests, in abandoned villages, once even in a cave by a lake. Anywhere but in a city, where the battles were like to path towards.  
  
When the chaos was finally over, she emerged, arriving in a small village rife with dead and injured, and offered to heal their wounded. They were suspicious at first, but before long, she was the one to go to, even if she was only seventeen. Every mother brought their sick children to her, every man came to her with hunting injuries. And slowly, she gleaned what had happened.  
  
Her sister, her dear sweet Margaery, was dead. Burned in a fire in the Great Sept by the whoring queen Cersei Lannister. Her grandmother too, poisoned by that wretched bitch’s brother. At least both Lannister twins got what they deserved.  
  
Most of the rest of her family was dead too, though she couldn’t say she mourned them. The North was once again an independent kingdom, ruled by Lady Sansa Stark- a girl she’d met only once, and passingly, at a tourney. But from what she'd heard, Sansa was strong, though her appearance and manner belied that, and if anyone was to be queen of the North, Gloria was glad it was her.  
  
As for the other big news...she’d found her three-eyed raven. And he was none other than Bran Stark...the King.  
  
When she’d heard he was now the three-eyed raven, it only confirmed what she thought. Bran Stark was crippled, and hadn’t the seer seen her fixing the three-eyed raven’s wing? Besides that, if she could do this- fix someone most had deemed beyond repair…  
  
It became a sort of personal challenge for her. So she left her town, her life as a healer, and set out for King’s Landing and the Red Keep.  
  
____________________________________________________________________________  
  
It was easy when she arrived to bribe the gate guard into letting her in. Once she was through the gates, she handed her mare off to a stable boy. His eyes lingered too long on her chest, so she glared at him and flashed her eyes, changing them quickly from a calm, placid brown to a startlingly bright violet and back again. Then his eyes couldn’t get away from her fast enough, and she tossed him a copper, fearing she’d scared him too much.  
  
The guard escorted her to the throne room- empty...save for the boy who sat on the iron throne.  
  
He was her age- no older than eighteen. And he was handsome.  
  
His brown eyes watched her carefully as she stepped forward. She gave no bow, no introduction- only said “I can heal you.”  
  
King Bran set the papers in his hand aside. Even though he watched her calmly, on the inside he wasn’t sure what to make of this girl. Beautiful, she was, and clearly very bold. She had the speech and posture of a noble, but nobles were always stuck up and made too much fuss over introductions, whereas she didn’t. Her eyes were a warm, inviting brown, but as he watched them, other colors swirled in their center. And besides that...he’d never seen her in any of his visions. Not one.  
  
“And how exactly, would you do that, Lady…”  
  
“Gloria. And I would do it through...well, perhaps it’s easier to explain through example. When my brother was thirteen, he fell and broke his arm. The maester said he’d never draw again, but my brother, he loved to draw. So I laid my hand on his arm, and focused, and when I opened my eyes, the break was fully and cleanly healed. He draws even better than before now.”  
  
“You say you simply...laid your hand on his arm?”  
  
Gloria huffed, clearly frustrated, but kept her head and polite demeanor. “I know it’s hard to believe. But ever since I was little, I’ve been able to do it. I possess a magic within me, one that not only lets me heal, but gives me certain, varying powers when I touch those of noble houses.”  
  
Bran wanted to believe her, really he did. To have his legs back...to run, to climb, to ride a horse, it would be wonderful. But the words echoed in his ears. “Will I ever walk again?” he had asked.  
  
No, but you will fly.  
  
Still, his curiosity got the better of him, and if there was a chance, even a small one, he would take it.  
  
“Prove it.”  
  
Gloria stepped up towards him. “Your cup, please.” Curious, Bran handed it to her. She laid her hand on his for a moment, and he watched her closely.  
  
Her eyes faded, leaching all the warmth from them until they were an unsettlingly pale blue. The cup in her hand started to frost over, covering the gold of it, and when she handed the cup back to him, the wine inside was completely frozen. He tapped the surface of it incredulously.  
  
When he looked up again, her eyes were back to normal, but this time they were a golden hazel. “How?” he asked. She only shrugged.  
  
“Your Majesty, all I ask is a chance. My grandmother hired a seer, and she said one day I would fix the broken wing of a three-eyed raven. I’d like to try and make that prophecy come true.”  
  
Bran nodded slowly. “Yes...I think you should have a chance. You’ll stay here, at the Red Keep, won’t you?” She nodded back to him. He summoned a maid to prepare chambers, but before Gloria could step back down the stairs, he asked her the question that had been on his mind.  
  
“When I asked your name, you gave me only your first name.”  
  
“So I did.”  
  
Bran smiled. She certainly gave nothing away.  
  
“I was asking your house name. Your speech is too fine to be a peasant’s, and you walk with good posture. You’re obviously highborn. What is your House Name?” Bran asked, studying her features closely. “You look a Tyrell.”  
  
Gloria scoffed, disgust clear in her tone. “I am no Tyrell. I may have been once, but not anymore, and never again.”  
  
Bran looked at her with an odd smile. “Then perhaps it is time you make your own house. Lady Gloria.”  
  
Gloria bristled at the title, but did not let her annoyance show. “Why? I’m not a noble anymore. I don’t need a fancy banner.”  
  
“Even so.” His demeanor was frustratingly calm, but she relented, and tried to think of a name.  
  
“Rosebane.”  
  
Bran gave a small laugh. “Ahh. Is your hatred for House Tyrell so great? I’ll have to hear the story of this one. And your banner? Your house words?”  
  
The banner was already clear in her mind, even after all these years. That vision had been so vivid, she swore it was imprinted in her memory. “A white tree on a black field, with a red sword at its heart.”  
  
Bran nodded. “I’ll have it made, then. And your words?”  
  
Gloria paused a moment, before four words came to mind. Perfect, they were, and they embodied her biggest principle concisely.  
  
“Never forget, Never forgive.”  
  
____________________________________________________________________________  
  
The first month she spent at the Red Keep was awkward.  
  
Bran introduced her to everyone there, even his council. And their healing sessions were often silent. She started with his left leg, fusing the bones back together under his skin painlessly and reversing as much of the muscle atrophication in his legs as she could. Bran would often watch her as she worked, fascinated by the glow left under his skin while she worked.  
  
As time went on, he started to make conversation with her while she was healing him. It started simply- how she was enjoying King’s Landing, whether her rooms were to her satisfaction. But soon they were swapping stories like old friends, and by the time his left leg was totally healed, two months later, he’d managed to coax the story of her childhood out of her.  
  
“So you were born a Tyrell?” he asked, watching her face as if trying to gauge whether he was going too far. But her features remained calm as she nodded, and began to tell him about life in Highgarden. About Loras and Willas, and Margaery, and her grandmother. She did gloss over the more emotional parts, choosing to share less details there, but the funnier stories she left nothing out of.  
  
When she told him about the time she’d dumped the fountain on her brother, he laughed in earnest, and it took effort not to blush when she looked at his smiling face. He was very handsome, she thought, but not for me. He’s a king. I’m a healer.  
  
She’d begun work on his right leg by the time the ends of winter were coming. He loved to watch the expressions on her face while she healed him- sometimes, when something frustrated her, she would scrunch up her nose adorably. Once, she caught him watching, and a faint blush dusted his cheeks as he looked away.  
  
He didn’t want to admit it, but...he was starting to...love her, for lack of other words. Yes, it was too soon to say he loved her, but it was more than just a friendly like- he found her attractive, no doubt about that, and her charming personality and witty humor had found a place in his heart.  
  
  
__________________________________________________________________________  
  
Gloria furrowed her brow as her hands worked their way over Bran’s bare back. She could feel where things were wrong, could see what was out of place, but she couldn’t quite reach it.  
  
It was frustrating as hell. Bran’s spine was the last piece before she’d have fully healed him, the most complicated piece- she’d spent months in King’s Landing working with the muscles and bones in his legs, slowly fusing them back together with her power and restoring the muscle mass in his legs, reversing what she could of the atrophication. Now, all that remained was to give him back feeling in his lower body.  
  
It was hard to focus, especially given that the boy she’d grown feelings for was lying in front of her, his upper half completely exposed. Though his legs were weak, his back was muscled, wiry like the rest of him. His skin was warm and smooth under her hands, with the occasional ridge of a scar.  
  
She felt around with her power, slowly sliding bones and nerves and muscles into place, regenerating them when needed, and soon there was only one piece left- a sizable bundle of nerves torn and tangled in the center of his back. She gently worked out the tangles like a mother brushing a child’s hair, and fused the nerves back together, and when she’d finished the last one…  
  
She ran a fingertip down his spine once more to check if she’d missed anything, and he shuddered, giving a soft sigh.  
  
“You felt that?” she asked, not daring to hope.  
  
“Yes.” Bran was glad his face was buried in a pillow, because her finger running down his spine set his cheeks aflame.  
  
Her face started to break into a huge smile as she realized her success. Bran rolled over slowly, and she looked him in the eyes.  
  
“Bran? Try to sit up.”  
  
Bran was wobbly, and it took some effort, but sit up he did. His mouth dropped open slightly as he stared at her. “You...you did it.”  
  
She tested that he could move both legs, and nearly started crying when he could. Bran, for his part, was still utterly shocked, unable to speak. He did everything she asked of him with relative ease- stood, walked, spun, bent over. It was almost impossible to get through his head that after five months of work, Gloria had finally done it, and he could walk again.  
  
When he was satisfied with his abilities, his attention turned to Gloria. He’d had some things to tell her for a while- what better time than now?  
  
“I suppose now that you’re healed, I’ll be leaving soon,” she remarked. Bran grew more hopeful when her face grew sad as she said it.  
  
“Actually, I…”  
  
She looked up at him with those beautiful eyes. Today, they were a gorgeous hazel that reflected the summer sun streaming in through the windows, setting off the tiny flecks of gold within them. “You...what?”  
  
Bran floundered for a moment. It was as if his mind had left him. He couldn’t think of a response, a coherent way to tell her that…that gods, he loved her. Her smile was the sunshine in his life, her witty humor often the only thing that made council meetings worthwhile. She acted tough, but she was one of the kindest people he’d known. And not to mention that she was impossibly beautiful. Her hair was dark brown, thick and softly curling. Her eyelashes were long and framed her eyes like a doe’s, and her lips were soft and plump. Her frame was small, but there was a defined curve to her waist, and her hips swayed as she walked, which never failed to drive him crazy. The soft swell of her chest always drew his eye, yes, but what really got him going was her infectious laugh, the way her hair always seemed a little messy.  
  
He couldn’t think of a response, so he crossed the room in a few strides, still marveling at his newfound ability to walk, and cupped her face in his hands, kissing her softly.  
  
He feared he’d moved too fast, startled her, but when he felt her lips move against his, and her hands move to pull him closer, his heart skipped a beat. She stood when he broke the kiss, and pulled him back to her, arms around his neck. Her lips were soft and tasted like the tea she’d been drinking as she worked- elderberry and honey. Tentatively, he grasped her waist and pulled her flush against him  
  
Gloria felt like a girl again, giddy and shy. She’d lain with a man once before, but she hadn’t loved him, not like she loved-  
  
Oh gods, she loved him.  
  
The revelation made her heart flutter, but it also terrified her. She’d never loved someone before, and there were all too many stories of kings and lordlings bedding a girl and dumping them off the next day. So she had to make sure.  
  
“Bran, wait.”  
  
Bran pulled away, his brown eyes meeting hers in an almost timid gaze. “I’m sorry, did I do something? Move too fast? I-”  
  
“Bran, I love you. It’s something I have to face, but...I do. How could I not? Your eyes, they’re always full of amusement- like you know a secret no one else knows. And when you look at me, it’s like I can’t look away, and I-”  
  
She nearly started crying.  
  
“I’ve never loved anyone before, and I’m...I’m scared! I hate that I am, but I’m scared that you’re only doing this because I happened to be around, and that you’re going to break my heart.”  
  
Bran took her face in his hands, ever so gently, and she saw the tears beginning to brim in them as he kissed her forehead softly.  
  
“How could you ever think I didn’t love you?”  
  
That stopped her right in her tracks.  
  
“Your smile...it’s so pretty. It’s like the sunshine in my day. And your eyes, no matter what color they are, always seem to sparkle. You’re so full of determination to prove you can do it, and you’re full of kindness, because your past has only made you a better person. Your humor is often what keeps me alive during council meetings, and every time I look at you, I want to kiss you.”  
  
The last part was true, and he felt silly admitting it. But he really had wanted to kiss her for so long.  
  
“So how in the name of the gods could I not be in love with you?”  
  
Gloria started to fumble for words, but she couldn’t find them, so she just kissed him again, hoping that kiss would tell him all he needed to know.  
  
His hands left her face to rest at the small of her back, pulling her in. Her fingers slowly crept up his neck to run through his hair, and he felt her press closer to him, and he hoped she didn’t notice what had- ahem- _sprung up _when she’d ran her hand up his nearly bare thigh to test for any mistakes she might have made in her healing.  
  
“Er...Bran?”  
  
No such luck.  
  
She pulled away from the kiss to look at him, and he felt his face flush. “I-I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean anything, it’s just when you were touching my leg, I- well…”  
  
Gloria smiled a bit, and he saw the mischievous flicker in her eyes that she usually got before she threw a disguised barb at someone in his council just to watch them flounder. But then it was gone, suddenly, replaced by a rather adorable blush on her cheeks. The two different reactions were caused in part by her thoughts- first, that she’d managed to put him in this state, and then, that godsdamnit, he was a king, and this couldn’t possibly be proper.  
  
“It’s okay. I understand. Maybe I should go-”  
  
“No.”  
  
The courage in him was sudden, like a rush straight to his head. He wanted her to stay- he wanted her to do more than just stay, but of course, he wouldn’t say that out loud. And he could tell by the expressions that passed one by one over her face that she wanted to stay too.  
  
He returned his lips to hers, with none of the timidness of before. This time, he was insistent, perhaps a little too much so, and made it clear what he wanted from her.  
  
“W-Wait!” she yelped when he started to kiss her neck, turning them and backing her up towards the bed. “You don’t have too long on your legs, maybe an hour before you'll have to rest, I-I could only reverse so much of the atrophication-”  
  
“Maybe this is how I want to spend that hour,” he said.  
  
Oh, gods. Gloria was in deep now. That voice of his, so quiet but so obviously filled with lust...it made her knees buckle. She couldn’t deny she wanted this, wanted him, and when the voice in the back of her head said, Why fight it?  
  
She let it win out.  
  
She sat on the bed, pulling him down with her. She hadn’t realized, since he’d always been sitting, how much taller he was, but she realized it now as he towered over her. His lips broke away from her neck for a moment to ask, “You do want this?”  
  
Gloria groaned as he scraped his teeth over her skin, involuntarily pulling him closer. “Yes.”  
  
His hands at her back lowered her down, and he climbed over her, knees planted on either side of her legs as she kicked off her slippers. He unlaced her belt, pulling it off and discarding it. His hands slid her gown off her shoulders, and she shivered.  
  
Looking him in the eyes only proved to draw her in deeper. His brown eyes were like a magnet to her, and the look in them only fanned that almost uncomfortable heat in her. He kissed her again as he pulled her gown off, letting it pool on the stone floor, and his teeth found her bottom lip, biting it softly. Gloria was left only in her smallclothes, same as him, and she let her hands wander absently as he kissed a trail from her lips down her jaw to her neck, leaving soft bites and kisses as he went. He shuddered as her soft hands traveled up his bare skin. It felt like she was leaving a trail of heat wherever she touched.  
  
Bran slid her chemise off, and had to take a deep breath to keep from taking her then and there. He wanted to make this last, and that was not the way.  
  
But looking over her bare form, the urge was certainly there.  
  
Her curves were soft, and her skin was smooth. The soft swell of her breasts was as inviting as a warm fireplace, and he started there, just below her collarbone. Feather-light kisses and sharp bites drew all sorts of soft little whimpers from her mouth. It was as if those sounds were wine, and he was a man in a barren desert, and he took his time drinking them in. Her fingernails lightly scratched the skin of his back, and suddenly dug in when he slid a hand between her legs.  
  
He’d never done this before, but something told him he was doing it right- perhaps it was the high, keening whine she gave when his thumb circled the sensitive bundle of nerves at the apex of her thighs, or the moan, muffled as she buried her face in his shoulder, when he slipped a finger inside of her, curling it and brushing against a spot that made her see colors she didn’t know existed. “Stop teasing,” she whined softly, and tugged at his underclothes. He smiled into her neck as he kicked them off. God, it was like the strongest power trip he’d ever had, knowing he was doing this to her.  
  
She pulled him even closer to him once he had them off, as if urging him. "You still want this?" Bran asked, and it was so sweet she fell in love with him even more in that moment. Gloria nodded, and pulled him closer again, burying her face in his shoulder. When he slid into her, she couldn't hold back a gasp.  
  
Bran, for his part, muttered a soft curse into her shoulder, biting his lip to keep from moaning. She felt so good, and the way she whimpered his name as he pulled out slowly and snapped his hips back into hers was another stack of brushes added to the fire.  
  
Gloria was completely lost, conscious of nothing but Bran as his pace increased and he pushed deeper into her. The places he was reaching, the sounds he was drawing from her mouth, they made her flush beet red and hide her face even farther in his shoulder to muffle her moans. Her fingernails were digging into his back, and she wanted to stop, knowing it likely hurt him, but she couldn't. She needed something to hold onto tightly, something to ground herself, because if she didn't have anything she was sure she'd lose herself. Her eyes were screwed shut tightly.  
  
When he drove into her at the perfect angle, she let out a loud yelp, and he stopped, fearing he'd hurt her. She opened her eyes to see his, looking down at her with concern. "Are you-"  
  
"Don't stop," she said quietly, embarrassed. His expression changed to understanding, and when he settled back into his rhythm, he hitched her leg up over his hip, recreating that angle.  
  
Her moans were louder now, and he could feel her legs starting to shake a bit, wrapping tightly around his waist. Her head finally fell away from his shoulder when she let it fall back in pleasure, and the expression on her face- pink flush dusting her cheeks, eyes shut, full lips parted, then closed as she bit her bottom lip- was easily one of the most beautiful things he'd ever seen. It only drove him closer to his edge, and his hips started to falter, his thrusts slowing slightly and becoming a little less graceful. Gloria's back was arching against the furs on his bed, pushing her chest up, and he took advantage of that, returning to his earlier ministrations and biting at the soft skin of her breasts.  
  
"Bran...fuck," Gloria whined, her breathing becoming more erratic as she drew ever closer to her climax. He was determined to see her through it, and so he picked his pace back up, losing his breath and groaning in pleasure. He bit down on the soft skin of her shoulder to stifle another moan as he pushed further into her. He felt her shudder as she moaned his name, and then her back was arching up into him and her walls were clenching around him, and he couldn't hold back anymore. He just managed to pull out in time, spilling his seed onto the blankets.  
His own legs were shaking from the effort, and so he laid down beside her, pulling her into his arms. They were both out of breath completely, and so his softly muttered "I love you" was met only with a "mmm...love you too" so quiet he could barely hear it.  
  
He couldn't say he'd ever been this happy.__


End file.
